Emotional Deductions
by Joyclover
Summary: As the world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, and his friend, John Watson, are solving more and more cases. Sherlock becomes aware of his growing feelings towards John and fears how he is to tell his one friend of his true feelings. He hopes that John will reciprocate his feelings, but as time passes he becomes more and more unsure of John's feelings and his own.
1. Chapter 1 Three of a Kind

**Chapter 1 **

**Three of a Kind**

Sherlock and John quickly made their way down the south bank towards the yellow tape that sectioned off a part of the street indicating a crime scene. While they were walking with an above average speed they were not walking with urgency. It was Sherlock who was forcing John to walk faster than normal, he wanted to make it to the crime scene as quickly as possible so that he could announce his intelligence once again in front of Lestrade. He found the sight of Lestrade angry, from his lack of observation, most appealing. Proving people wrong and expressing his superiority was something Sherlock lived for, normal people just amused him, he could not fathom a reason why they live the way they do. Their constant use of emotions and trying to please others is just illogical. While he found them quite idiotic he loved picking them apart, being able to tell everything about them in a single look, he found it a minimal challenge that exercised his immense brain power.

As the two reached the border of the crime scene tape, Sherlock was smiling to himself, realizing this he dropped his facial muscles to his serious and normal straight face. It was an expression his facial muscles were use to and melted into with ease. When the officer saw Sherlock Holmes and John Watson he quickly elevated the bright yellow tape to let them pass with ease. Sherlock expected this from the man and therefore gave him no acknowledgment John thanked him as he passed, by the man, though. It was always surprising to Sherlock how sincere John was, he honestly thought the officer lifting the tape was nice and that it deserved a thank you. To Sherlock, John was what the average human wanted to be, nice and sincere, someone who truly cared for the well being of others. Although Sherlock was surprised by John he did not show on his face that he was.

John and Sherlock walked up to a dark olive green door, that was ajar, leaving the inside open to the elements. This bothered Sherlock, he preferred his crime scenes as original as possible. He only hoped that Lestrade didn't let the forensics team have their way around the body. He walked down the the hall with four strides that his long legs did with little effort as he reached the entry way of the flat he new exactly what had happened, why it happened and how to find the person who did it. He quickly stored the needed information away in his mind palace, for future reference. He walked further in and looked down to see the body of a woman that was the most recent victim of a series of murders over the London area. Lestrade was dumbstruck by the third victim in, he had no idea what the victims had in common, the only reason he speculated they were committed by the same person was the time between them, six days, every time, it was to much to be a coincidence. He called Sherlock into the case around the fourth victim hoping that he could shed some light on the events.

"So have the photos and write ups from the other crime scenes helped you at all? Do you think you can tell me anything that could help the division solve the case?" Lestrade asked not looking up at Sherlock, hoping to be able to see something that would cause Sherlock's presence here unneeded.

"Lestrade, I would believe that you would know me well enough by now that you would realize I in fact have all the needed information to piece everything together and be able to catch the man doing this. I can already tell you why this man is doing it and why he went after all the victims he did." Sherlock replied with a condescending tone in his voice, the amount of distaste he had for the obvious was quite abundant in the way he spoke to others.

"Well Sherlock why don't you enlighten us on what you see, and who this bloke is?" John said in a manner that told people in the room that he was comfortable with Sherlock and that Sherlock's tones didn't phase him.

"John, I can't simply tell you what I see, I have to explain to you what I see; but first I want to know what you see." Sherlock said finally looking at someone while he spoke to them, he wanted to see John as he thought. He found the way John came to conclusions most interesting, it was one of the reasons he loved keeping him around.

"Well I see a woman, with six lacerations on her upper torso. I also see that while her home is very neat, her clothing is dirty and wrinkled." Said John looking around the small living space of the flat, he looked back at Sherlock waiting for his response, and for a split instance he swore he saw an emotion flash behind his eyes, something that was quite a rare occurrence in Sherlock.

"You are getting much better, John, but there are things you missed." Sherlock said looking back to the room, "She, the other victims, and the killer all have something in common, that's why he is killing them. Look around the room, what do you see, what I see tells me everything about this woman and the killer. There's three rubber bands holding up her hair, there's three chairs, three lamps, three tables, three, three, three. The only thing that there is not three of are the things the killer left behind, the six lacerations on her body, and the six pieces of paper and the six pens. They have obsessive compulsive disorder, an anxiety disorder characterized by recurrent and persistent thoughts and feelings and repetitive, ritualized behaviors. The other victims have the same OCD as this woman, threes, all five of the women killed so far have had an obsessive compulsive disorder towards threes."

"Amazing, bloody brilliant." John stated while the new information registered in his mind.

"You said the killer had OCD as well, how do you gather that?" Asked Lestrade looking at Sherlock waiting for the answer to his question eagerly hoping that for once he would be able to shoot Sherlock's intelligence down.

Sherlock smiled seeing the hope on Lestrade's face made him amused, knowing that in the moments he would talk all the hope would be drained from his expression. "As I said before there is three of everything in this room, except for what the killer left behind, the six lacerations, the six sheets of paper, and the the six pens sitting on the that table there." Sherlock said pointing in the direction of the table, he began to pace around the room with his slender hands together in a praying form and touching his lips. "All of things I have pointed out to you have the number six surrounding them, even the time between the murders is six days. The killer has and obsessive compulsion towards the number six. Now so far the killer has killed five victims, there is sure to be another one in six days, meaning we have six days to catch him. After the sixth victim he will go into a sort of hibernation, to which he will either come out of in six weeks, months or years. In this time it will be nearly impossible to catch him"

"Sherlock, you are absolutely brilliant. We need to find this killer as quickly as possible." John said with worry and astonishment in his voice.

Sherlock found himself smiling in the praise of his friend. "My dear John, it was just a simple observation. Any one could do it, they just choose not too." Sherlock replied, while turning towards the door. " I believe I've told you everything you need Lestrade, if you require my assistance further you know where to find John and I"

Sherlock walked out of the room, leaving John to hurriedly trail behind him. His legs being much longer then John's caused this to happen frequently and John found it almost routine. He soon caught up to him with a little help of Sherlock slowing his pace down to meet John's, it was awkward for his long legs but he did it for his friend. As John neared Sherlock, Sherlock found himself with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, he brushed the feeling off and stored it away for future analysis. John and Sherlock strode down the street in silence for quite some way until Sherlock hailed a cab for the two of them. The journey was taken in the same comfortable silence in the beginning but soon Sherlock broke the silence.

"Your observations are getting much better, John." Sherlock said without turning his head to face John.

"Why thank you, Sherlock." John said with unsureness in his speech. "It's quite out of character of you to point out the well doings of others."

"I find that most people find that when one's well doing are pointed out they find it encouraging. If you would like me to not do so I will stop." Sherlock said flatly at first but towards the end one could almost imagine sadness in his voice.

"No, that is alright. Thank you, having your encouragement means a lot to me." John said turning away from Sherlock and gazing at the passing buildings.

"You are welcome." Sherlock replied finally gazing down at the shorted man next to him, there was happiness in the way he said this last sentence, but he knew John would not notice such a thing, and was slightly glad for his friends inability to observe on the same levels as he could.


	2. Chapter 2 Missing from the Deck

**Chapter 2**

**Missing From the Deck**

After informing the police about the killer, Sherlock spent most of his time sitting in his grey, leather chair, with his hands in the praying mantis position they were accustom to. He sat there pondering everything that entered his mind palace. He thought of new experiments and how he would need to get more supplies. He rarely moved, when he did it was to do "petty" human things, such as relieving himself, and occasionally eating, but he only did these things when absolutely necessary, holding them off until he could no longer stand it. During this time of intense thought he did not look at the papers, or check the news, he was busy. John watched him slightly worried for the tall man's health, but let him do as he pleased. He knew better not to disturb Sherlock while he was deep in thought, he was like a child when you disturbed him, throwing a very large tantrum. If Sherlock was thrown into one of these rants he could and would say cruel things, he didn't mean to but it just happened. He felt especially upset about it when he said brutish words to John. His only friend didn't deserve those things, and Sherlock wondered how he could stand him, no one else could.

It was six days after the last body, both Sherlock and John knew they would be called in by Lestrade to investigate yet another murder. The two sat in their respective chairs, John with his Union Jack pillow placed on his lap while he read an old book that he had already read about a dozen times, and Sherlock in his chair with his feet up in an almost fetal position. He was looking at John as he read, he could never understand why John reread book over and over. He had to know everything that happened in the story by now, what was the point of reading it again? The two sat like that for a long time, John only getting up to refill his cup of tea, and eat some toast with raspberry jam on it. Sherlock did not budge from where he sat, he was beginning to worry and become upset. Where was Lestrade? Was he wrong, was there not gonna be a murder? Questions filled his mind, ricocheting off the inner walls of his mind palace. Something was wrong and he didn't know what it was, yet.

As more and more time passed John was getting restless from being cooped up in the flat all day. He had already gotten several messages from Jeanette, or as Sherlock referred to her as, the boring school teacher. She had asked him to go to the movies with her if he was not to busy with Sherlock. As it seemed that they're were not going to get a call from Lestrade, any time soon, he texted her back stating that he was free for the evening and could go to the movies with her. She responded almost immediately saying that she would be ready in twenty minutes and the next showing would be in a half hour. Putting his phone back on the arm of the chair John began to get ready. Of course Sherlock did not notice this and continued his train of thought, not paying any attention to the surrounding world, finding it to be a dull and hateful place.

It did not take John long to get ready, he merely freshened up, and changed his tattered, red, shirt, exchanging it for a nice black button down. John hopped down stairs to retrieve his phone from where he had left it on the arm of his chair and leave for his date. This Sherlock did notice, it brought him from his mind palace and back into the real world, he knew from one look that John was going out with that boring school teacher. His cologne and button down shirt was a dead giveaway, Sherlock looked at him admiring how John looked nice for his dates but not over done. As he caught himself thinking this Sherlock questioned why it would matter to him. He had never cared if anyone else looked nice for their dates, Molly coming to mind, she always ran by Sherlock when she had a date thinking that she might make him jealous, and even though John looked nice for his evenings out on the town, he found himself wishing that John would just stay in the flat with him. Sherlock could not fathom why he felt like this, he only knew he did, he pondered it a slight bit before deleting the thought from his mind palace, he did not want petty thoughts like why he wanted John to stay cluttering the space of his brain.

Lifting his hands away from his lips, Sherlock stood, towering over everything in the room. His tall, lean figure cracking from the sudden movement. Being in the same position for such a long time had caused his body to become stiff, and recoil from movements. Sherlock walked past John and into the kitchen, not for food but to attempt to escape the unending thoughts of "John" in his mind.

John stood in the living area of their flat looking in the direction that Sherlock had fled to, he could hear Sherlock's feet pacing on the tiles of their kitchen. Something was odd about him, and it wasn't the normal sociopath acts he did, it was something different, something that made John feel, wrong. It made him uncomfortable, and he didn't like it. John thought that he should call after his flatmate but stilled his tongue from doing so. He walked to the door and left for his date, he closed the door softly behind him. When John made his way down the seventeen steps and through the front door and out on the cold, night, streets of London. He quickly hailed a cab, as the taxi pulled up to him, he took a last look up at his flat. In the window he saw Sherlock looking down at him with his violin in one hand and the bow in the other, he's about to play something beautiful, John thought to himself, before getting into the cab and reading off the address he had accustomed to his memory.

Sherlock raised his bow to his violin, he began to play, it wasn't a song, it wasn't a tune, it was Sherlock. How he felt, how he was, it was every bit of Sherlock in that very moment. He was angry, he was hurt, and he just didn't understand how John could have left him alone. Alone, it was a word that stung more deeply then Sherlock would ever admit, he felt it his whole life. He expected to feel it until the day he died. That was until John showed up, he was the only person who looked at Sherlock and didn't care that he could be arrogant with his intelligence, John was the only person who truly cared for him. How could John, the one person to care for him, leave him here? He hated it, he wanted to be the one that John invited to the cinema, not one of his girlfriends. No that's ridiculous he didn't want to go on dates with John, or did he? Sherlock shook his head quickly halting his bow upon his violin, of course he didn't want to go on dates with John, that would mean he felt romantically towards John, and Sherlock never feels that way. There was some other reason he wanted to spend all his time with him, there had to be.

As the hours passed Sherlock rarely put down his violin, he had to many thoughts rushing around in his head, to stand completely still. He had to do something. That's when he heard his phone ring, it was the kind of ring that grew in volume as it continued. Sherlock shouted shut up a few times, but as he found the ringing to be persistent, he stalked rapidly over where his phone laid on the arm of his chair. Swinging the phone to his ear he barked a quick greeting.

"Sherlock? Hello? This is Jeanette, is John with you?" There was a pause before she spoke again, maybe she was expecting Sherlock to respond, maybe she was at a loss for words. "He was supposed to here hours ago."

"John?" He felt his voice and his heart drop at saying his name, John had never stood up a date unless he was with him on a case. John was prompt and enjoyed his time when he went out, why was he not there, where was he? "He did leave." Sherlock's voice faded, he dropped his phone on the couch and began to pace his flat. Where had John gone off to, there had to be a reason for this. Sherlock had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Hello? Sherlock? Are you still there?" Jeanette's voice began to break and Sherlock could tell that she was becoming worried.

Sherlock quickly hung up on Jeanette, he did not need her ramblings to distract himself. He needed everything about him to figure out where John was, something was wrong. Sherlock needed to find John, he could not risk loosing the only person to ever care for him, and the only person that John had ever called a friend. John was Sherlock's and no one was going to take him away.


End file.
